The Youngest Son

As the taxi pulled up in front of the house, Nick began fumbling through a wad of bills to pay the driver. Vow of poverty notwithstanding, this is a big amount for a ride from the airport, Nick thought. He tried to calculate how much to tip but then just rounded it off to the nearest twenty and hoped for the best. He wasn’t sure of the going rate for tipping cab drivers. He felt very out of touch with many things right now. His only bag, a small beat-up Nike gym bag he had had since college, was beside him on the seat. He picked it up, thanked the driver, and opened the door. Nick stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door of his parents’ home. What a magnificent house, he thought. It was a large English Tudor that his parents moved into before Nick was born: six bedrooms, five full baths, a kitchen as large as most family rooms, and a magnificent library with full shelves and a moveable ladder on a rail that he loved as a child. This house has character, he thought. Nick remembered going to Biltmore House in Asheville one time and thinking he liked his house better. So, it wasn’t the Biltmore mansion, it was everything a person could want in a home. It was located in the Philadelphia suburb of St. John’s, and every house around it was also magnificent. Calpurnia, the family black Lab, was sleeping on the lawn in front of the house. Nick knew that meant someone was close by. She was old now, the last of several sweet Labs the family had lavished love upon, even though his dad, Kris, claimed to dislike dogs. Cal looked up at Nick drowsily and cocked her head, until she somehow recognized him, or thought she did. Her tail began to thrash against the boxwood. “Hi, girl,” Nick said, as he sat down on the ground and scratched her behind one ear. She lay over on her side in pleasure. “Some guard dog you are,” Kris said as he came around the side of the house. “You’ll let anyone in here, won’t you old girl?” Kris beamed at his son. The father and son looked very much alike. Both were tall and lean with incredible deep-blue eyes. The two men embraced, stood back to look at each other and embraced again. Nick felt his eyes begin to well but he blinked to control it. Kris patted Nick on the back. “Your mom’s going to freak. Did you tell anyone you were coming? How long can you stay?” his father asked quickly. “As long as you will have me,” Nick answered softly. Kris looked at his son to see if he heard him correctly. By that time, Nick’s mother, Emily, came around the house. Emily was small compared to the men. She was trim and attractive and exuded energy. She practically ran to him. Kris stood back to let Emily get to her son. Kris pondered Nick’s comment as he came around to the other side of him, picked up his bag and the three of them went in the front door with Calpurnia close behind. He smiled warmly at his mother. It was wonderful to be home. Emily pressed against her son on the sofa. “I am so glad you are here. We miss you terribly, you know.” “I know.” “We’ll have a cookout tomorrow night. Tonight it will be just be the three of us,” Emily rambled on. “Is that okay? I just want to look at you. You aren’t wearing a collar. Is that what is done now? You don’t have to wear a collar when you travel?” It was a family joke that Nick wore his clerical shirt to get a better seat on the airplane. “This is a vacation, isn’t it? You aren’t going to one of the universities or anything on church business are you?” Nick came home one time to go to a seminar at nearby Villanova University. “No. I am not on church business…or anything.” Most of the evening was just spent in comfortable, pleasant conversation. Though Nick gave out little information about why he was there or for how long. He would shrug his shoulders when asked. Emily didn’t seem to care. She was just glad he was home. After dinner, they went out to the patio and sat. It was a beautiful starry night. The back yard was as inviting as Nick remembered. Clematis was climbing gracefully up a narrow trellis. Day lilies were blooming along with other flowers he couldn’t name, in what Emily called the Yellow Bed. Another bed had blue and purple flowers, aptly named the Blue Bed. In the back, at the edge of the property, was a large English garden. Emily had it designed as a birthday gift for Kris one year. He had described for her the garden he worked in as a child at the orphanage where he grew up in London. Interesting flowers and plants of various colors were growing at different heights, giving a very beautiful random appearance that had been carefully planned. Despite the fire in the pit, mosquitoes began to bother Emily and she decided to go in to bed. “Don’t stay out too long, boys,” she pleaded. “You will be eaten alive.” She kissed Nick on his forehead and then Kris. “Love you both,” she said. They both smiled at her in response. The two men sat in silence for several minutes. It was a lovely evening, perfect temperature to enjoy the fire. Nick thought about sitting there with his friends when he was a teenager and other times when he was young and would spy on Alison and Mandy and their friends from an upstairs window. He was brought back to the present when Kris spoke. “What is going on, Nick?” Kris asked. His mood was somber, the question serious. “What do you mean?” Nick answered cautiously. “You know what I mean,” Kris stated flatly. When Nick didn’t answer, he tried again. “Why are you here, Nick? Unannounced, without a schedule,” he said softly. Then he added, “Without your clerical shirt.” He sat, his hands folded between his knees, biting his lip slightly. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Nick was looking down also biting his lower lip. He was seated directly across the fire pit from Kris and when he looked up at his father, he felt a tear begin to slowly make its way down his cheek. He made no effort to wipe it. He closed his eyes and sighed. “I left,” he said simply. A few seconds went slowly by and he added, “I had nowhere else to go. I came home.” Kris now took a big breath. He exhaled loudly and smiled. “Then this is where you belong!” He started to say something else but thought better of it. He smiled tentatively again at his son. “Dad,” Nick began. “I know you have a lot of questions. I don’t really know where to begin. It might take me a while to tell you everything. Let me just start by saying that I am not in love. I am not in any trouble. I am not gay. Most priests leave because they are upset with the Catholic Church. They are angry because the church requires celibacy of priests and they have fallen in love with someone or want to. I haven’t,” he explained. “I am not upset with the Church,” he said emphatically. He paused and closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them and looked at his father. “And I haven’t fondled little girls or abused little boys. I don’t lust over other priests. It is just that I…I,” he began again, “I,” but the words didn’t come. Finally he said, “I just didn’t want to be a priest anymore. It just didn’t seem right… I mean, it didn’t feel like it did in the beginning. I mean….”